


Food Fight

by windfallswest



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windfallswest/pseuds/windfallswest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iruka goes out of the village on an assignment; Kakashi takes his classes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Food Fight

**Author's Note:**

> I know I've been writing a lot of these, but I swear, it's not a fetish. Well. Let's try that again. I swear I never wrote teacher porn before I started writing for Iruka, who apparently has no inhibitions about dropping trou anywhere in the wide green world. Anyway, I maintain I'm just taking advantage of the cliché.

"I don't know."

"How long has it been since you went on a mission?"

"Not that long." Iruka protested.

 _Lies_ , Kakashi knew, but didn't say.

"Today's Friday; you'll be back Monday evening. I can handle your class for _one day_."

Iruka made this _face_ , looking him up and down like he was assessing the risks. "Maybe I can get Anko..."

"Anko is vomiting _torquoise_ ; she needs an interior decorator to diagnose her. No lessons on germ warfare. Besides, I'm as scary as she is," Kakashi insisted.

Iruka made a rude sound.

"To pre-genin!" Kakashi pouted. "It's your contact, though, isn't it?"

"Well, yes," Iruka admitted reluctantly.

"There. I promise I won't get all your students killed in _one day_. I manage with Naruto, don't I? Even the herd of them can't be worse than Naruto. And people are actually trying to kill him, sometimes."

Iruka sighed. The sigh and the look accompanying the sigh conveyed a lack of confidence in Kakashi's child-management skills that was less than flattering. Kakashi kissed him persuasively.

Iruka hmmed. "Fine."

 

Kakashi was confident he could handle the situation.

He had, after all, completed far more difficult tasks, faced larger numbers of opponents, and those much more thoroughly trained than this rag-tag bunch. Besides, they'd have to stop dribbling snot from their noses first.

As it turned out, snot was a much more effective weapon of mass-terror than Kakashi had anticipated. At least if Team Seven's reaction was any indication. Wimps. They'd probably all be sick and whining for time off for the next week.

The lunch bell ringing was the sound of salvation, although the downpour that had ruined Kakashi's clever morning plans to exhaust the hyperactive little twerps kept them bottled up inside. The test-like papers Iruka had left for his class had been used primarily as construction materiel, and the number of times he'd had to pull Naruto and his mimic off one another was fast approaching thirty.

Kakashi watched, trying not to look frazzled, as the last vestiges of order evaporated from the squirming horde. How did Iruka stand the _noise_ all the time? They were like little shrieking ricochets.

And his team was no help. Kakashi had thought that Team Seven would enjoy a chance at turning the tables. Plus, they'd be better acquainted with the enemy's tactics. Kakashi, of course, had never been a hellion. Quite a sound tactical judgment, he'd thought.

Please.

" _I_ WILL BE THE NEXT HOKAGE!" Naruto was stamping his feet in rage.

What Kakashi would really like to do, he reflected, was dump a vat of wasabi down their pants and have done. This whole idea had turned into a complete fiasco, although the expression on Sakura's face every time that kid had thwipped her with a spitball had been priceless. But mostly? Disaster. He was going to trudge onwards because there really was nothing else to do at this point, and then go home and burrow into warm blankets and never, ever speak of this again. Especially not with Iruka. Kakashi nodded sharply to himself in approval of this plan.

That settled, Kakashi opened his bento box and picked up his chopsticks. Ah, leftovers. Maybe all this shouting would tire them out after lunch.

"Say that again!" an angry voice punched through the din.

"I'm gonna kick your ass, you little shrimp!" Naruto shouted.

"Nyah!"

And that was all the warning Kakashi got before Naruto dodged the projectile and it connected with a wet splat on his pristinely black mask. Kakashi looked up with menacing deliberation. The child's eyes were wide as saucers.

Kakashi picked up an onigiri, hefting it.

An evil grin spread across his face.

He shouted, "FOOD FIIIIIIIIIIGHT!" and hurled his seasoned ball of rice.

And then all hell broke loose. Sakura was still gaping a him in disbelief when a grapefruit impacted her solar plexus and she staggered backwards, tripping over a desk. But Kakashi had more important things to worry about. Naruto had already formed a temporary alliance with some of the students and was taking the odd potshot at his sensei whenever his miniature and his confederates—and if those three didn't et assigned to the same genin team, someone wasn't paying attention—let up for a moment.

Kakashi ducked some randomly flung blobs that might have been liver, taking momentary cover behind a desk where two girls were smashing jell-o into one another's hair. There was a dark figure hanging back in one corner, trying to stay out of the fight.

"Naruto!" Kakashi called in what other cultures might describe as a parade-ground bellow.

Naruto turned automatically, getting creamed in the face by someone's dessert for his distraction. He followed the direction of Kakashi's gaze and bared his teeth in pure, unadulterated glee. They were clearly on the same page.

Kakashi seized the nearest item of food, which turned out to be a handful of pudding. Excellent.

"Fire!" Kakashi barked.

Their missiles went sailing through the air before their intended target realised he was in the line of fire. He blocked Kakashi's with a hastily raised arm, but Naruto's hit, splatting in an intensely satisfying manner.

A shriek of rage drew Kakashi's attention from Sasuke back to Sakura. She was sopping wet, having had most of the contents of a large thermos of tea upended over her head by a precarious three-child tower, the remains of which were on the ground and attempting to scuttle out of the range of retribution. The students had evidently taken exception to the tests.

Kakashi darted around the edges of the fray, contributing chaos where he felt it would do the most good. He took immense satisfaction in dumping a bowl of ramen over Naruto's head while he was busy shouting taunts across a barricade of desks.

Naruto gave voice to a howl of rage and turned on him.

"Get him!"

Uh-oh.

Throwing self-preservation to the winds, Kakashi cast around for more ammunition. The entire class was converging on him with vengeful delight on their faces. He fired four bananas out of their skins at his onrushing attackers, foot-level, and smirked triumphantly behind his mask when the wave curled back on itself, slipping and crashing on the lubricated floor. Unpeeled bananas had a much longer and more effective weaponised life than just the peel.

Pressing his advantage, Kakashi started pelting the screaming brats with egg rolls. Egg rolls don't have much stopping power, however, and the tenth diving proto-ninja who tackled him bowled him over.

It was times like these when Kakashi was very grateful that he always wore the mask. He thought that was actually Sakura trying to shove a jalapeno up his nose. He came close to feeling sorry for Sakura sometimes, but then he remembered that she was quite insane enough to hold her ground.

Kakashi had just managed to slip out and was exchanging fire with Sasuke through gaps in the melee when it happened. The door banged open. Everything stopped but a lone octopus tentacle, which was already in motion.

Kakashi automatically calculated its trajectory as he followed its flight through the open door and directly into Iruka's face. Its slide down his purpling features was mirrored by the slow drip of rice pudding from Sasuke's chin inside the wide collar of his shirt.

"Ah," Kakashi said, hastily lowering his arm. "Iruka-sensei. You're back."

"I finished the mission early. I thought I'd drop by and see how you all were doing," Iruka said through grit teeth. The vein in his forehead was throbbing now.

"Ah, kids, our combat exercise is over," he improvised with what he was sure was great aplomb. "Anyone with stains on vital areas would be dead right now if this had been a real battle." And hopefully no one noticed that he was plastered head-to-toe. "Now, why don't you all go home and get cleaned up?"

Iruka was silent as the students filed past him. Naruto tried to slink by unnoticed, but a sharp glare pinned him against the doorframe.

"It wasn't me, it was Kakashi-sensei! He started it!" Naruto pointed desperately.

This diversionary tactic was successful, redirecting the worst of Iruka's ire long enough for Naruto to escape. Kakashi considered his options as Iruka shot a last glower at Team Seven's retreating backs and then spun to glare balefully at Kakashi's food-covered state. Iruka hadn't said anything yet, which was a bad sign. He was usually very vocal in his displeasure. This was new; this was literally _shaking_ with rage. For the first time, Kakashi noticed that he was dripping wet.

"Battle exercise, Kakashi?" Iruka asked in a low, growling voice that promised to get much, much louder. Damn, but that was sexy.

"Well, we couldn't go outside; it's raining."

Iruka shot him a glare that said he knew very _well_ that it was raining.

"And so you decided to destroy my classroom?"

There was no point defending himself; it _was_ technically his fault, so he might as well have a little fun with it.

"Every ninja must be able to defend himself with whatever weapon comes to hand," Kakashi maintained piously.

"This wasn't potato bombs, Kakashi! D'you think I don't know rampant chaos when it hits me in the face?" Iruka shouted, brandishing the octopus tentacle as he advanced.

"That's an octopus tentacle, not Nyarlathotep's."

Iruka gave him a flat look and continued. "It's incredibly immature, not to mention irresponsible and, I'm sure, poorly-thought-out. What kind of example are you setting? You're supposed to be a Konoha jounin, you halfwitted scarecrow! The famous Kakashi! Copy-nin, Lightning-nin. Living legend! Do you have any idea how _impressive_ you look right now?"

"Dashingly tousled?" Kakashi suggested.

Iruka's eyes narrowed to slits like the edges of knives.

"I should make you _lick_ every particle of food from this room—and don't you even _think_ of trying that on me!" Iruka added when Kakashi gave him a look that conveyed exactly what he might do if Iruka let him start licking things. "—but I know what kind of indolent, slipshod crap you're likely to pull. The last thing I need is for you to be here until midwinter, or turning the Academy into a flood zone, or any one of the thousand half-baked gimmicks you have shoved up your ass!"

Iruka had been advancing on him, step by step, with the inexorable deliberation of an avalanche, one fist clenched, the other brandishing the reddish, flopping tentacle like he wished it was something much more substantial. Kakashi was fast running out of space to back into, and the wall behind him was far too slippery for climbing up it to be appealing. Plus, he was pretty certain that if he started using jutsu, Iruka was going to stop shouting and actually follow through and throttle him.

"I expected disorder! I knew this was a bad idea right from the start. But no, I persuaded myself you couldn't be _that much_ of a twat! I thought you might have enough sense to ask someone with more self-control than _Naruto_ to help you! I thought you might be able to, with all your vaunted prowess, hold the attention of twenty half-schooled children for a few hours! I didn't think you'd be so overcome by a premature second childhood that you'd _increase their destructive potential_!"

Kakashi had a very good view of the throbbing vein in Iruka's forehead now, as well as that muscle jumping in his jaw, seeing as how Iruka had just grabbed a fistful of his uniform and used it to throw him back against the wall. His feet were dangling a few inches off the floor. It was quite impressive, actually.

Iruka was panting heavily, having momentarily abandoned words. He currently seemed to be trying to burn the full force of his outrage directly into Kakashi's brain with his eyes. He felt a shiver run down his spine.

Kakashi moved quickly, smile mostly hidden behind his mask. He gripped Iruka's powerful shoulders and swung his legs up, locking them around Iruka's waist. It would be very difficult to have a relationship with Iruka, he thought in passing, if one didn't find him impossibly sexy when he was angry.

Leaning in, he could hear the warning rumble start in Iruka's chest. He drew himself closer, arms crossing behind Iruka's neck while Iruka took a step forward and crushed him up against the wall again, hands planted either side of his shoulders.

Iruka's scent, damp and warm, broke through the bizarre amalgamation of smells clinging to his mask. Kakashi inhaled deeply, knowing Iruka would feel it and hear it and feel his erection pressing against his stomach.

"Are you going to punish me, sensei?" Kakashi asked huskily, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"You're such a little bitch sometimes," Iruka grated. It would be a compliment if he didn't still sound like he might go off shouting again any second.

Kakashi threw his head back and laughed.

"I _should_ thrash you," Iruka told him darkly.

"Mm." Kakashi wriggled, teasing Iruka's cock which was poking him in the ass.

Iruka _never_ spanked him in public. Maybe he could arrange to look suitably half-dead coming back from his next mission and get Iruka pissed enough at him in private. Or shrink all his trousers in the wash again. One of Kakashi's major life ambitions was persuading Iruka to spank him over that desk. What was a naughty-sensei fantasy without a little verisimilitude, right?

All of a sudden, Kakashi's mask was being pulled down and Iruka was kissing him, hard and messy. Iruka kissed _dirty_ , and not just when he was angry. Must be a colourful past, and it had _absolutely_ been a mistake to be so out of touch with village goings-on during those years because this was tongue-fucking, fierce and maddening and Iruka had to have picked it up _some_ where. They could spend hours like this, sunk into somebody's couch trying to out-kiss one another like a couple of randy teenagers until Kakashi did that thing with his teeth, just hard enough, or Iruka moaned like the sound had travelled up all the way from his toes and someone came, and the loser laid back smugly and had his brains fucked out for a reward.

Iruka's hands were wrapped in his hair, the—yes, the fucking octopus tentacle still in one of them, and Iruka was, he thought, taking more than sufficient satisfaction smushing it around up there. Kakashi ground down in retaliation and was rewarded by the involuntary jerk of Iruka's hips.

"I've been a bad—bad—boy," Kakashi gasped between kisses.

Iruka nipped his neck reproachfully. "I am going to burn _all_ of your books."

"Mngn," Kakashi whined, a response engendered only by the threat and not at all because Iruka was sucking a hickey onto his neck.

He felt Iruka's hands leave his hair. Arms wrapped around him, supporting him as Iruka staggered away from the wall.

Kakashi did his utmost to disrupt Iruka's concentration, rubbing sensuously against Iruka's hard body, although the effect was hampered by their tac vests. Now it came down to it, he had absolutely no objection to simply screwing on the floor. Right now.

With a last, warning bite to the spot he'd bared on Kakashi's neck between mask and high collar, Iruka tipped him back onto the desk. Iruka pounced him before he had a chance to recover. Wordlessly, he made it very clear that Kakashi ought to lie back and let Iruka get on with ripping his clothes off.

Or yanking his trousers off, at any rate. And—fuck— _there_ —Iruka was definitely still pissed at him. Kakashi wasn't sure he wanted to know what precisely Iruka was using for lube, but he was two fingers deep without warning, hitting his prostate with merciless precision.

Kakashi scrabbled at the lip of the desk with one hand, tangling the other in Iruka's hair and urging him down. Iruka resisted the pull, bracing himself against Kakashi's shoulder with his free arm. He was dripping water onto Kakashi from his hair and clothes; the fabric of his uniform-clad legs was damp between Kakashi's thighs.

Iruka held himself maddeningly apart, making tactically sound use of his superior position. No matter how Kakashi strained and twisted, he could find no friction. It was only when he spread his legs wider and put his heels to the desktop, pushing himself further onto Iruka's fingers, that Iruka started moving faster, harder.

Kakashi moaned and a spurt of precome shot from his cock onto his vest. This time, he made no effort at turn-about when Iruka let go. His fingers trailed down Iruka's neck and arm to help him fumbling with his flies. He watched Iruka's eyes stutter open and shut as his hand finally found Iruka's cock.

For a second Iruka let him, and then he had found another handful of whatever-it-was-that-wasn't-lube and drew Kakashi's hand away, up over his head. Kakashi caught hold of the desk's edge just as the blunt, slick head of Iruka's cock slid inside him.

Kakashi let his head fall back onto the desk as the first burn of tight muscles stretched into a balls-deep thrust. Iruka stopped for a moment, resting his head on Kakashi's chest, to adjust. Then he was moving again, driving hard and fast into Kakakshi, sprawled half-naked on the desk.

It felt like Kakashi's entire body was burning, not just his neglected, bobbing cock. He needed him closer, harder; needed his hands and his lips. It was sweet torture that he could only wrap his legs around Iruka to urge him on, using his new leverage to meet each thrust.

A strangled sound twisted past Iruka's glistening lips at the way Kakashi jerked as he bore down. Oooh, that was most certainly the spot. Fuck. Yes.

"Oh, fuck, _Iruka_ , fuck me," Kakashi realised he was moaning aloud.

Iruka's fingers dug bruises into his hips, marks he'd feel for days. The cool dampness of Iruka's uniform all along his legs was a constant contrast to the heat of his cock, of his hands. Kakashi felt at once open and filled, completely claimed by Iruka's branding touch. Iruka leaned forward, and it was almost more than he could stand, the brush of fabric against his cock. One thrust, two more, scraped against rough, wet threads, and Kakashi came.

Iruka licked inside his mouth as he shuddered, fingernails digging into muscled flesh. Kakashi inhaled his stuttered breath, capable of little more. Iruka bit lingeringly on his lower lip, then moaned something that might have been Kakashi's name as he followed after.

Kakashi unwound his legs and dangled them languidly over the sides of the desk, toes brushing the floor. Iruka made a snuffling sort of sound, ostensibly somewhat mollified. His hands had burrowed up under Kakashi's shirt and vest, seemingly more for the contact than any more ambitious purpose.

"D'you still want me to lick your classroom clean?" Kakashi, who was still effectively pinned, asked suggestively.

Iruka lifted his head from Kakashi's chest to squint at him with blurry ire. "I should smack you." He yawned, then relented. "Make Naruto and the others do it." His voice was muffled by Kakashi's vest. "I'll write it up as a D-class for them if I have to," he muttered darkly. "Later."

Kakakshi _mm_ ed agreement. He was, manifestly, a success as a teacher.


End file.
